All The Time In The World
by medusaoblongata
Summary: Jesse McCree surprises the Overwatch agent who was responsible for the sting operation that brought his gang down. McCreexOC lemon.
1. Chapter 1

The keycard slid neatly into the reader on the door, the display circuits lighting up with a flicker and a chime of sound as the room welcomed her, wishing her a pleasant stay at the hotel. She pushed inside with a sigh, dropping the bag on the floor and letting the door click shut behind her, groping for the light panel with one hand. Nothing. She kicked her bag forward, fingers ghosting along the wall, until she emerged from the tiny hallway and glowered at the outline of the window ahead of her.

"A good start," she grumbled, and then she felt it, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling as the unmistakable sound of a gun's hammer clicking back echoed in the dark behind her.

"I missed ya, darlin'," came the rough, mocking drawl from behind her and she was suddenly aware of the cool slide of metal against the back of her neck.

"Jesse." It wasn't a question, and the answering chuckle from behind her only confirmed the observation. She held still, so very still, as the cold steel continued to brush along her skin.

"The very same. It ain't been easy to find you, y'know that?"

"Is that right?" She let out a tiny whine as the metal abruptly revealed itself to be his mechanical fingers, grasping her about the nape of the neck like a misbehaving kitten.

"That's righ', doll. But y'and me have unfinished business," he murmured, his lips beside her ear as he spoke, the sound sending frissons of fear-and something more confusing along her spine. "You owe me f'all those years ago. Y'can't just get a feller caught and expect he won't come after ya."

"It was-" she began, only for his fingers to tighten, the words choking off into a whimper of protest.

"Jus' a job, I know. I know. I ain't -mad-, persay. I just ain't exactly happy with ya." He let the thumb of that metallic hand brush gently behind her ear, chuckling as the woman squirmed and then tried to jerk away from him helplessly.

"If you're going to kill me, McCree-"

"Oh, I ain't gonna kill ya now," he corrected softly, his human hand abruptly splaying over her stomach and pressing her back into him, steel fingers shifting to wrap around her throat and jerk her head back. "Don't you worry, little lady."

She was worrying. Her worry was palpable, her breath hitching in her throat, body trembling against his. But that confusing, tingling sensation was heightening as well, a pleasing buzz beginning to jolt along her skin where his fingers rested, a strange heat pooling between her legs.

"Jesse-" she murmured, what was meant to be a stern reprimand melting into a hoarse gasp as his human hand dipped beneath the waist of her skirt and his fingers rested tauntingly right above the fragment of lace that crowned her panties.

"Oh, well now," he hummed, lips still resting cruelly on the shell of her ear. "I didn' know you felt that way about me, agent."

"What wa-aah!" Her retort turned into a squeak as his teeth nipped, mechanical hand releasing her throat and then spinning her around to face him before gripping her chin and tilting her face up toward his.

"I think you know just what I'm talkin' about," he growled at her and then covered her lips with his, walking her back up against the wall as he plundered her mouth with his tongue, hands dropping to grip her behind the thighs and hike her up against his waist.

She could hardly keep herself from groaning against his mouth, fingers dancing a nervous jig before they finally sank into his hair, arms curving around his neck as he wedged himself between her legs. She yanked, rewarded by a grunt from him and then his lips dropping from hers down to her neck where he proceeded to punish her with stinging kisses, teeth leaving marks up and down the sides. She whimpered and sighed, arching up against him, and then abruptly she was yanked away from the wall and carried over to the bed and then he was atop her, pinning her down to the sheets.

"There a reason you ain't mentioned this before?" His voice was cut through with laughter as she pouted up at him, his metal hand ripping the buttons on her blouse easily and then dipping beneath her bra to pinch a nipple between chilled steel digits. "We coulda been doin' this for years now, darlin'."

"I hope you can make up for lost time," she retorted before making an undignified sound as his fingers tightened.

"Oh, I got nothin' but," he teased and then pushed himself up, divesting himself of shirt and then belt, boots and-pants. She let an arm tap the light beside the bed and then coughed, gazing on his scarred and toned body with no small amount of feminine appreciation. He gave her a cocky grin and then prowled forward and onto the bed, lifting her and yanking her atop his waist with ease. "This has got t'go," he mused, unclasping her bra and tossing it away and feasting his eyes on her exposed breasts, his hands coming up to rest behind her back as his head lifted, lips closing over one nipple.

"Jesse-" her voice was much more plaintive this time and she rocked in his lap, grinding herself against him as one hand sank into his hair and the other slid down his back, her nails dragging along his skin.

"You got somethin' you want, you better shoot straight about it," he snorted, shifting his attention to her other breast and nipping at the sensitive skin with his teeth, drawing a sharp sound of need from her throat.

"Need-I. I want-," she sputtered, head spinning as he made short work of her skirt and then let his human hand slid down beneath the scrap of lace that remained, one calloused finger rubbing against that bundle of nerves between her legs as he watched her cheeks flush and her eyes flutter shut. "You."

"I'm gettin' that sense of things," he hummed, palming her mound and then letting one finger slip inside her, curling it and grinning wolfishly as she gasped and arched up against him. "Wildcat, huh." That finger teased relentlessly and was soon joined by a second and then a third that stretched her and made her sob with want, hips jerking against his hand. He was only too willing to draw out this form of delicious torture, murmuring heated words in her ear in that twanging drawl. Then he moved her, the woman finding herself on hands and knees suddenly and the gunslinger resting behind her, the head of his cock pressed against her gently. "Gonna fuck y'real proper now," he informed her and then began to push in: slow and inescapable.

She screamed, burying her face in the pillows, the feel of him stretching her and hitting all of those perfect spots making her legs tremble, a dim roar beginning to echo in her ears. On and on it went until he was finally hilted and she felt as if she'd never been so complete before, her body sagging as he let her get accustomed to his length. One of his hands wrapped around her, fingers coming to grind against her clit once more as he pulled back and then began to fuck her, every movement precise and exquisitely aimed. It only lasted so long before his breath became as ragged as hers and he pulled her back up against his chest so that her head could rest on his shoulder as he rocked inside of her, his free hand tweaking and toying with her nipples. With a cry, she came, shaking against him as her spasms milked his cock again and again and yet he continued to take her mercilessly, shifting her so that she was astride him once more, her head thrown back as she rode him. A second time. Then a third. Only then did he finally clamp both hands onto her hips and bury himself in her one last time with a grunt, his seed exploding into her in a wave of warmth.

She sank down against him, rewarded by his arms wrapping around her as she nestled her head into the crook of his shoulder.

"I'm plannin' t'do that every damn day," he informed her, voice amused. "From now 'til the end of time, I'm thinkin'." His head dipped, lips pressing a kiss against her forehead.

"I thought you weren't happy with me," she mumbled, yawning against his skin as she curled up against him comfortably.

"I ain't. Y'still need to be punished fer all that trouble y'put me through. I'm just gonna have t'get creative." One hand slid down and smacked against her ass lightly. She laughed, shaking her head and then giving his hair a tug in return. His face sobered up for a moment and he gave her back a slow stroke along the spine. "I did miss y'darlin'," he admitted, "Much as I hate t'let you win again."


	2. Chapter 2

Jesse McCree would be hard-pressed to forget the day he first met her. It was a day he'd have been hard-pressed to forget anyhow, considering it was the day everything fell apart and he found himself locked in irons. He prided himself on the fact that it had taken a small army of law enforcement folk to finally bring him down, though as he sat in the white-walled interrogation room, he felt an idle pang of guilt for not taking more of THEM down in return. The young officer across the table from him was clearly reveling in having the upper hand on the great Jesse McCree, and when the fellow leaned across the table to stick his face in Jesse's, he ended up staggering backwards as his nose met a solid head-butt from the aggravated cowboy. Then the door hissed open and -she- stepped in, dressed in a well-tailored black suit and surprisingly sensible shoes, with her red hair piled up atop her head and gray eyes betraying nothing of her feelings about the situation. She was also built like an old-fashioned heartbreaker, wide hips and a bust that he could see even beneath the severe cut of her jacket. Jesse forced himself to resist the urge to tip his hat.

"Get out." The first words out of her mouth were directed at the young man who was now nursing his bleeding nose, and he scampered out of the room with a muffled curse. "I apologize for his behavior." She turned her eyes on Jesse and he thought he detected a twinkle of humor there, despite her clipped tone.

"Aw, ain't nothin' I couldn't handle, ma'am." He winked at her and she gave him a withering stare in return, clearly refusing to buy into his charming antics.

"Jesse McCree. My name is Supervisory Agent Moran. I am responsible for you being here." She smiled, placing well-manicured hands atop the little file of papers on the table. "I have the utmost faith that you will come to see the error of your ways."

"Error? 'Scuse me? Ain't hardly nothin' wrong with bein' the best damn outlaw this side of the Pecos," he drawled, irritation rushing through him that this diminutive dame could needle him so easily.

"Ah yes. Well. A lifetime spent in maximum security has a way of adjusting the way a man sees the world. Or-more specifically, no longer sees it." She leaned back in the chair, a pretty smile curving across those kissable lips.

"Ah, get outta here, y'damn harpy." He turned his head and spat on the floor, his expression murderous.

"Very well. Let's see how much you enjoy the solitary experience." She pushed herself up, dusted off her skirt and then plucked the files up from the table as she turned to leave.

"Gonna enjoy watchin' you walk outta here, doll," he purred, rewarded by the slight stiffening of her posture.

"Perhaps that time alone will instill some manners in you as well," she snapped, stepping through the door as it slid open. "Guards. Return Mister McCree to his cell."

Their antagonism continued for quite some time, though Jesse learned that his captor was capable of smiling; laughing, even, and he began to look forward to her questioning sessions, taking the small reward of her sudden blush and bright smile as payment for his imprisonment.

After a short while, he was pleasantly surprised to find that she had moved their meetings to a room with windows, and even more surprised when she entered and pressed a small button, his ankle and wrist shackles releasing. He stood, yawning widely as he stretched, wrists rolling as he raised an eyebrow at her.

"Ain't you afraid I'm gonna hurt you?" He took a lazy step around the table, stopping in front of her and leaning down so he could look her in the face.

"I am not." Her reply was quiet, but when her gray eyes met his, he could've sworn she was staring right through him.

"Then you're a pretty little fool, ain't you," he murmured, one hand rising unbidden to touch his fingers to her cheek.

"Don't make me regret trusting you, Jesse." The breathless way she said his name made him suck in a breath-and of course she smelled of cinnamon, damn her-and become abruptly aware that his cock had gone hard as a spike in his jail duds. He grunted, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and slinking back to his seat, his posture that of an embarrassed tomcat.

"First time you ain't called me Mister McCree," he noted sourly. A small victory.

It was only a short few weeks after that that he found himself outside (outside!), albeit on a sealed porch, and his lovely jailor pulled a small bag from her jacket, sliding it across the table toward him.

"A cigar," he noted dumbly, fingers placing it between his lips and lighting it reflexively.

"Your favorite brand, I believe." She sat there across from him, hands folded primly as usual, her face betraying none of her emotions. He wanted to drag them from her, damn it. Make her scream his name as he-he growled in frustration, glowering at her.

"The hell you bein' so nice to me for?" His question seemed to catch her off-guard and she blinked, allowing him to see behind the mask for a brief moment, to see a welling of emotion in her eyes. Then the mask returned, and she offered him a small smile.

"You may be a prisoner, but you are still human," she stated, spreading her hands. "I am sure you've seen the worst of humanity already, Mister McCree. I have nothing to gain by emphasizing how dreadful we can be."

"Uh huh. Tryin' to butter me up. I'll just assume it's so you can fuck me over later." His harsh words made her forehead crease with worry and he immediately regretted them.

"You've already done that to yourself quite admirably." Her tone was cold and she barely looked at him for the next few hours, the man furious with himself for feeling the overwhelming need to apologize.

It was only at the end, however, when she offered him the choice between an eternity behind bars or serving beneath Overwatch, that he realized how much he'd hoped time would just stop and leave the two of them alone. After he'd signed his life away to the Watch, he pushed the documents back toward her, catching her hand with his as she reached for them, marveling at the way her little gasp of surprise made him stiffen like steel.

"M'not good with this kinda thing," he murmured, thumb running gently along hers. "I uh. M'gonna miss ya, little lady. Ain't a nice world where a man can't just enjoy his time with a gal."

"Jes-Mister McCree." He realized, with a significant swell of the ego-as well as a certain organ, that he'd flustered her, and she gave his hand a soft squeeze. "I will miss you as well. Stay safe out there." Then she pulled away, handing the papers to a muscular man with a brooding expression outside, a man Jesse immediately wanted to beat to death with his hands for looking at her and making her smile.

He was roused from his thoughts by a gentle murmur, glancing down at the woman curled in his arms, peacefully sleeping nestled against him. The fingers of his human hand reached out, running along her cheek and then along her shoulder, the sensation making her nuzzle even closer. Damn, the woman did certainly have a way of making Jesse McCree feel like a million dollars. He settled for tracing patterns along her scalp with the tips of his fingers, eventually rewarded by a little yawn and then two gray eyes flickering open and glancing up at him.

"Morning," she mumbled, a much bigger yawn following her greeting as she rolled over, burying her head in a pillow.

"Sun's been up fer a while now, darlin'," he chuckled, following her movements and tugging her back against him, perfectly willing to be the big spoon in this situation.

"That a revolver or are you just happy to see me?" The question caught him off-guard, a snort escaping him as he realized that she could feel his length pressed solidly up against her rear now, already aching for her attention once more.

"I'll jus' let you guess," he teased, a soft grunt sounding as she wriggled back against him. "M'happy to see you. I ain't exactly tryin' to be sneaky."

"Thought so." She sounded smug, though it edged into a distinctly breathy noise as he slid between her legs, entering her with a slow, gentle push. "Jesse-."

"Let m'love you, woman." His gruff voice made her heart ache and they made love in intimate quiet, the only sounds those of pleasure and adoration. Later, as he pressed her up against the wall of the shower and took her again, she caught his face between her palms and murmured her joy against his lips.

"Why did you come back?" She dropped the question as they settled back into the bed, his arms cradling her. "Once Petras happened, I didn't think Jesse McCree would bother to surface again."

"I hid f'a long time after that," he admitted, pressing his lips to her forehead. "Tried t'find you after Gabe an' Morrison lost their damn minds, but all the folks I talked to said you'd kicked it." He supposed he'd expected to see a flash of guilt across her face, but instead there was only a look of deep sorrow.

"I did. Or at least, that's what everyone believed, doctors included." She saw his lips parting to ask the question and quickly raised a finger to silence him. "There was a Talon attack a few months before the explosion in Switzerland. They blew up a motorcade I was traveling in, and I was pinned beneath the debris for hours. My spine was shattered." She drew in a deep breath. "The doctors kept me in stasis for months, trying to find a way to rebuild such a thoroughly broken body. They managed-though my back is as human as that metal hand of yours. By that point, I'd already been written off. I was released a free woman, nowhere to go and no friends to speak of."

"God damnit, woman," he muttered, "I shoulda been there. Keepin' you safe." He glowered at the wall across from them. "Shoulda been there t'take care of you."

"Jesse." She said his name with a snort of laughter. "I found my own way. Besides, why would you want to rescue your captor?"

"'Cause I been moonin' over you since the first goddamn day I clapped eyes on you," he retorted, surprised by the way her expression softened and her eyes suddenly brimmed with tears. "Don't-don't cry, sweetpea," he grumbled, burying his face in her hair. "I told you years ago I weren't good with romance."

She was the one who silenced him, surging in his arms to wrap her arms around his neck as she kissed him savagely in return. He groaned, sinking a hand into her hair and then settling the other at the small of her back, making a noise of primal appreciation as she ground her hips against his. It only took a moment for him to position himself at her entrance and he hilted himself with a rough thrust, catching her lower lip between his teeth as she gasped. This time their loving was neither gentle nor slow, one hand looping around the back of her neck and pinning her against his chest before he finally rolled her onto her knees and pressed her against the bed as he fucked her, teeth leaving bruises all along her skin. He delighted as she came for him again and again and when he finally finished deep inside her, he felt nothing but a sense of completeness as he swept her up into his embrace and kissed her, soothing her until she had fallen asleep in the crook of his shoulder once more. One of his hands came down to rest atop her belly for a moment, a speculative gleam in his eye, before he settled back, content to let time stop and leave him alone with his gal.


End file.
